


ghosts don't exist

by brujsedbones



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Korean Mythology, M/M, Resurrection, a smattering of side ships but none of them really matter, mingyu can talk to ghosts, platonic meanie, seungcheol jeonghan and chan only mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-12 04:01:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11153814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brujsedbones/pseuds/brujsedbones
Summary: If there was anything Kim Mingyu hated, it was being lonely. He just wasn't cut out for it.





	ghosts don't exist

**Author's Note:**

> just to clear up any confusion, quotes in italics are a ghost speaking

If there was anything Kim Mingyu hated, it was being lonely. He just wasn't cut out for it.

He was meant to be around people, to live and breathe and frolic about among them. He was meant to go on dates and flirt and play soccer with his wide circle of friends. He was meant to go to school, and fall in love, and well, be a regular human.

He was never meant to spend his time cooped up in his apartment, working from home and rarely leaving. The only reason Mingyu ever breathed any fresh air at all was because of his best friend Wonwoo, who dutifully dragged him outside for at least an hour every week. Mingyu dreaded these visits, and resented Wonwoo for being so strong willed, but he secretly thanked the elder for not letting him rot away in isolation, something he had wanted to do from a young age.

Mingyu was miserable inside by himself, but it could be worse. He could be outside, listening to anguished voices and pain wracked tales of horror. Mingyu could interact with the dead, and it was his worst nightmare.

He had no idea why. He just knew that anywhere he went, especially in busy areas, he heard hundreds of voices at a time in his head, and none of them were his. It was mildly alarming to someone as young as Mingyu was, just the ripe age of thirteen when he moved from Anyang to Seoul. He dared not tell a mortal soul; he feared that they would find him insane and sequester him to the voices only he could hear.

He told only his  _ sanshin  _ uncles. Sanshin are mountain gods, as seeing as Anyang is surrounded by mountains, it makes sense that they would linger around. Mingyu had no recollection of his parents. He never met them, or knew of their whereabouts. He has lived with and been surrounded by Jisoo, Soonyoung, Jihoon and Seokmin for as long as he could remember. They were really all he needed to be happy, because he was an extraordinarily happy child.

The decision to send Mingyu to Seoul was not an easy one. Soonyoung and Seokmin insisted he go. He was young and amiable, an easy person to make friends with. They thought he would need as many friends as he could in order to be able to cope with his “condition,” and making friends was almost too easy in a place as populous as Seoul. They argued that shackling him to Anyang was more of a detriment to his development than a benefit. Anyang, once a fruitful, illustrious city, had been reduced to a village with a population of only thirteen mortals, and the lack of activity was suffocating.

Jisoo and Jihoon felt differently about the matter. They felt that keeping Mingyu in tiny, isolated Anyang would be safer for him. He was young, and sending him off to a foreign city, even with Anyang so close by, seemed like they were abandoning him. They knew Mingyu’s rather tragic story, and there would no doubt be predators seeking to destroy him.

The thought of Mingyu dying was Jihoon’s absolute worst fear. He had made a promise to Mingyu’s father before he fled, to protect the small bundle of softened skin and weak bones. Originally, he had no idea how to pull that off, but while sanshin are by no means major, they are not completely useless. As soon as Mingyu could talk, Jihoon began to teach the child the art of magic. Not fun magic, for harmless pranks on your friends or perhaps even your teacher. No, Mingyu was taught defense magic. Glamours their associated command words, things that would save his life when the time inevitably came. Jihoon knew the time was going to come.

After an intense game of rock paper scissors, it was decided that Mingyu would go to boarding school in Seoul. Jihoon could do nothing but hope for the best.

Mingyu turned out to be fine. As fine as someone in his position could be. A bit of a hermit, but who wouldn’t be when you had the voices of the dead to keep you company constantly? His uncles did not blame him, nor did they scold him when they came down to visit. Mingyu graduated high school at the top of his class, and was accepted to the prestigious Seoul National University.

Mingyu, who was more often by himself than not, found solace in books and stories, which were there when people were not. He ended up majoring in philosophy, and minoring in literature. Though he was well versed in the mythology of other cultures, such as Greek, Roman and Egyptian, Mingyu’s passion really resided with Korean mythology, particularly the unsolved mystery of Anyang, and a line of royals who originated from there.

The bottom line is, Mingyu liked to keep to himself and read his books. But one person, one  _ gwishin _ , one ghost was set on making that impossible for him.

—

Mingyu was incredibly anxious. His hands were shaking inside the pockets of his coat. Due to the thick layer of snow, his usual store was unable to deliver his groceries. So he would have to go and get them himself.

It's not that he had no people skills. Mingyu was actually quite personable and friendly while he was out. But millions of people have died in Seoul, and listening to them frantically search for an explanation for their current condition was not an ideal way to spend a Monday morning.

Even anxious, Mingyu was not stupid. He knew most people, dead or alive, wouldn't be out and about at 8am. He walked the empty streets of Seoul, head down and silent. God, how he cherished silence.

_ "Watch where you're going, asshole." _

"I'm sorry," Mingyu apologized. He didn't feel any impact, but he was so used to apologizing that it rolled off his tongue without hesitation. He kept walking.

_ "You can hear me?" _

Oh no.

Mingyu whirled around to face the source of the voice. Stood half a meter away from him, was a being. He was definitely not alive. His entire figure was a bit faded and dark, and seeing him gave Mingyu the feeling of wearing sunglasses. He had forgotten how trippy seeing the dead could be, and how they appear to mortals like himself; it was playing tricks on his eyes, and he didn’t like it at all. 

The being seemed young, and his eyes were bright, indicating that he hadn’t been dead for too long. He was dressed plainly, in ripped jeans and an oversized sweater and he was—

Cute.

He was cute, and the realization hit Mingyu like a freight train. Mingyu had been in Seoul long enough to know that cute people with attitude meant trouble. And like a complete imbecile, Mingyu apparently rammed his broad shoulders right into one.

“Yes, I can hear you.”

The being moved walked toward him, closing the space between them.  _ “Why are people acting like they can’t hear me? Is this some kind of practical joke?” _

Mingyu wanted to die. Beings that didn’t know they were dead were the most painful to deal with. They were always so lost and looked genuinely terrified of their current condition, and it ripped Mingyu to shreds to have to break the information to them. This had only happened to him twice before, but it was not something he was eager to experience again. But here he was, experiencing it again, when all he wanted to do was buy japchae noodles for his breakfast.

The being was still talking, but it seemed to be to himself.  _ “I know he’s rich but he could not have possibly paid off the entire city of Seoul to ignore me for some kind of sick, extended April Fool’s prank.” _

Mingyu interjected there. “What is your name?”

The being tilted his head to the side in confusion, but he answered anyway.  _ “Xu Minghao.” _

It was Mingyu’s turn to cock his head to the side. “That’s not a Korean name.”

Minghao snorted. _ “That’s because I’m not Korean, idiot.” _

“Listen, Minghao I’m trying to help you,” Mingyu said with a roll of his eyes. He was doing his best not to catch an attitude. Even so, his Korean tongue had completely butchered the being’s name, and he flushed in embarrassment. Minghao noticed.

_ “What’s wrong? Is baby too stupid to pronounce something that isn’t in his language?” _

Minghao’s tone was mocking and not at all affectionate. It was full of scorn and disdain, but Mingyu couldn’t help the way his heart jumped at the word  _ baby.  _ He hadn’t been called that in a long time, sarcastic or not. His reaction was the slightest bit embarrassing, and he was sure that if Minghao noticed, he would comment on it. He seemed like the type of person to latch onto one’s embarrassments and insecurities and ride them for as long as possible. Although Mingyu would like him to ride something else for as long as possible.

His body physically jolted when that thought ran through his mind. He was twenty years old, and he hadn’t had sex in years, but this was a kind of desperate Mingyu never thought he would ever achieve. He was thinking about fucking a ghost. A  _ ghost. _

Before Mingyu could answer, another voice cut through his thoughts. 

_ “What is that dude doing standing in the middle of the sidewalk?” _

Mingyu checked his phone. 8:47 am. 

He groaned. “Look, I want to help you, but you have to come with me.”

Minghao was taken aback.  _ “What?” _

Mingyu slipped his face mask back up over his nose. “I will help you, give you all the information you need, but you have to come with me right now. I can’t be out here much longer.”

_ “Why?” _

Mingyu ignored the question. He turned the way he came, unsure if the being was even following, and without his japchae noodles.

—

“You’re dead.”

_ “Excuse me?” _

Mingyu neatly hung his coat in his closet, then ungracefully flung himself onto his bed. He stayed there for a few seconds before turning over to face Minghao, who had indeed followed him home. The poor thing looked around like he didn’t know what to do, so Mingyu patted the spot next to him on his bed. Minghao sat obediently, his back rigid, the perfect model of being a stranger in someone’s home. 

Mingyu had always hated perfection.

“I said, you’re dead.”

Minghao looked lost. Mingyu took pity on him, so he decided to try a less forward approach. He motioned for Minghao to get under the covers with him, and the being followed, their backs pressed against the headboard. Even though he was freaking out as well, Mingyu kept his voice soft and calming.

“How long have people been ignoring you?”

Minghao watched himself fold his own hands. He did not look up from them when he answered. His voice was small. _ “I don’t know.” _

Mingyu rubbed a hand over his face. “Your eyes are still bright. It couldn’t have been long.”

Minghao looked up at Mingyu. _“If I’m dead, how can you see me? How can you hear me, and talk to me?”_  

Mingyu looked back at him. “I’ve been able to interact with the dead since I was young. It’s terrible. A lot of people are like you, you know? They don’t know they’re dead until someone tells them. Some beings never find out until they’re taken from the mortal world entirely.”

_“How long does that take?”_  

“It usually should be instant,” Mingyu answered. “Daebyeol is still a little backed up from the Anyang, Iksan and Changwon massacres from twenty years ago. Processing those beings in addition to the ones who just naturally die takes a while.”

Minghao seemed to be in awe. The snarky young man on the street had vanished and been replaced by someone with a thirst for knowledge.  _ “How do you know about Daebyeol? How do you know all of this?” _

Mingyu felt as if he was sharing too much, but he couldn’t stop. No one had shown such genuine interest in him in years. “I’m from Anyang. One of the few survivors from that massacre. I majored in philosophy in university, and the story of those missing royals and those massacres was especially important to me.” 

 _“So you’re like...an orphan?”_  

Mingyu chuckled a little bit. “Yeah. I actually don’t remember my parents being around even before the massacre. I’ve always been cared for by my sanshin uncles.” 

Minghao’s eyes widened, a bit comically. _“Your uncles are_ gods?” 

“Yeah,” Mingyu answered. Then something dawned on him, “How do you who Daebyeol is?” 

Minghao looked away. _“I’ve done some research on Korean mythology, even before I moved here. Daebyeol is the ruler of the Underworld, and he’s doing his job, but I am still confused as to where Sobyeol went.”_  

“Everyone is. Believe me.” 

 _“Where could the ruler of the mortal world be hiding, you know? Someone should have found him by now.”_  

Mingyu nodded his head in agreement. “Maybe Sobyeol is dead.” 

Minghao nudged him with his arm.  _ “Or he’s sitting right next to me.” _

Mingyu looked scandalized. He resisted the urge to swat at his newfound companion. “Ha ha. Very funny.” 

Minghao untangled himself from the sheets and comforter, standing next to the bed. “ _ Aren’t you going to show me around? Since I’ll be staying here and all.” _

Mingyu grinned, standing up himself. “Oh will you now? Do all ghosts just invite themselves into the homes of others?” 

Minghao nodded. _“No, just me. And yes I will be staying here, because you so generously offered to take me home with you. But I need something from you first.”_  

Mingyu started to make his bed while answering. “And what would that be?” 

 _“Your name.”_  

Mingyu whipped his head up to look at Minghao, who actually looked a bit shy. Mingyu thought he detected a bit of a flirtatious undertone, and flushed a little. “I’m Mingyu. And if we’re talking about things we need, I’m going to need something from you too.” 

Minghao played along. _“And what would that be?”_  

“A Korean name. Minghao is way too hard to pronounce.” 

— 

Minghao spent four or five weeks getting the hang of being dead. It wasn’t like one of those dramas that his mother and sister used to watch; he couldn’t phase through walls, or haunt people. As much as he wanted to, the universe just didn’t operate in that way. Mingyu, who was so terribly endearing, made it a point to tell him that whenever the younger mentioned it. 

Minghao was having a hard time placing his feelings about Mingyu. He was way more attractive than any human should be allowed to. Minghao knew it was shallow of him, but it was just so damn obvious and Mingyu was so damn oblivious to how he looked all the time. It was all the more frustrating for bisexual, _ghost_ Minghao because he would never get the chance to suck him off. 

Mingyu allowed Minghao free rein of his apartment; he could come and go as he pleased. Minghao rather liked going into the outside world, looking for beings like himself. He did however, feel a bit foolish, asking Mingyu to open the door for him whenever he wanted to leave. It felt like asking for permission, and even though he knew he didn’t need Mingyu’s permission, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being sixteen again. Mingyu never denied him his leave. Some could call him irresponsible and uncaring, but Mingyu always wished Minghao safety before he left. 

He was always ready to present Minghao with any information he asked for, whether it was about his condition, or mythology, or about just about his own history. Mingyu didn’t just tell stories, he was a storyteller. He mastered the task of grabbing words out of thin air and spinning them into something tangible for the person with an aversion to imagination. Mingyu told stories, Minghao wanted to hear every single one of them. 

Was he extremely helpful? Yes. 

Was he extremely caring? Yes. 

Was he extremely handsome? Yes. 

Was he extremely annoying? Yes. 

Kim Mingyu was so fucking annoying that it almost hurt. He wasn’t annoying in a patronizing, superior kind of way. He was annoying because he was perfect at everything he did. Cooking, writing, cleaning, speaking, breathing, existing; he had it all. And it was even more annoying that he had absolutely no idea that he was as close to a walking god as anyone could come to. He could absentmindedly run a hand through his hair, make absurdly sexual noises while stretching, wear his big, dopey smile, sleep curled up tightly in a ball, and all of it made Minghao want to collapse, from either sexual frustration or the sheer amount of cuteness. 

Minghao was living with the duality of man.

Well, he wasn’t living, but whatever. 

For someone who stays locked inside away from the world, Minghao found Mingyu to be incredibly flirtatious. Perhaps it wasn’t purposeful. Mingyu was prone to blurt his thoughts, a habit birthed from his usual solitude, and he always blushed furiously after dropping a line about how pretty Minghao’s eyes were, or how soft his voice is. 

Their dynamic was strange; both of them dancing around their attraction to each other because they knew it would never work out. Mingyu was not supposed to know of Minghao’s mere existence, let alone form romantic attraction and act on it. It was embarrassing for them, but they managed to make it work. As long as they weren’t too fascinated with each other, everything would be fine. 

Everything was not fine. Mingyu was smitten.

_“Mingyu-yah,”_ Minghao called. Mingyu was studying his laptop with furrowed eyebrows, looking adorably frustrated.  

When the person in question looks up, Minghao continues. _“Why don’t you go outside more?”_  

Mingyu set his laptop aside, crossing his arms. “You know why.” 

Minghao shook his head, leaving his spot at Mingyu’s desk to sit next to him on the bed. _“No, I mean more often. Do you not get lonely in here?”_  

Mingyu spared him a glance from the corner of his eye. “Not anymore. Now that you’re here. You’re all the company I need.” 

Minghao resisted the urge to blush, before he realized that it would be invisible anyway. _“Stop flirting with me,”_ he whined.  

Mingyu grinned, and Minghao never wanted that smile to leave. “I’m not flirting. Besides, Wonwoo hyung comes by on a weekly basis. That’s enough outside time for me.” 

Minghao rolled his eyes, sliding down to lay on his back.  _ “Go outside more. I want some privacy.” _

Mingyu closed his laptop and placed it on the floor, joining Minghao in his positioning. “You do realize that there are like seven different rooms in this apartment, right?” 

“ _No, Mingyu,_ ” Minghao started, ” _I need_ privacy _.”_  

To make sure Mingyu understood, he raised his hips the tiniest bit. Mingyu’s eyes follow the action, and then he starts laughing. Not any small giggle, a loud, obnoxious laugh that radiates so much genuine happiness that if Minghao were not so embarrassed he would have been proud of himself for drawing that out of his companion. 

Wiping stray tears from his eyes, Mingyu asked, “Seo Myungho, are you alluding to masturbation?” 

 _“Yes._ ” 

“You need me...to leave my own apartment...so you can masturbate.” 

“ _That’s correct. It would be embarrassing if you h— Stop laughing Mingyu!”_  

Mingyu tried, he really did, but he just could not stop laughing at such a notion. Suddenly he stood up, carefully sidestepping his laptop and pulling his shoes on. 

Minghao sat up. _“Where are you going?”_  

“I’m giving you your much needed privacy,” Mingyu smirked. Then he was gone, leaving Minghao on the bed to listen to the door shut behind him. 

— 

The late morning air was pleasantly warm on Mingyu’s face. Minghao wasn’t wrong, he did need to get out more. On the surface one would argue that Mingyu was just a pathetic recluse, and he would agree, but deep down he knew it was because he never wanted to leave Minghao. He hated how attached he had become to the younger in such a short amount of time. 

In the past months. Mingyu had almost refined his skill of ignoring the voices in his head. He walked east, right into the sun’s rays. He had successfully reduced the voices to a slight murmur, and he was quite pleased with himself. Just as he was about to turn the corner that would lead him to the convenience store, he heard a loud crash. Then the voices were back full force, one much louder than the others, and Mingyu’s feet were carrying himself in the direction of said voice before he could think about what his game plan was. 

It took a full two minutes for him to run down the block. One voice indicated one fatality, but when Mingyu reached the car crash, he discovered two beings, the other seeming to be shocked into silence. Mingyu couldn’t blame him. The crash was awful. It appeared that the sleek black car had t-boned the older model Chevrolet, the hood popping up in a way a hood should not. There was a lot of broken glass, and at a closer look at the black car, the driver of the vehicle was missing, matching with the hole that was broken into the windshield. 

The one voice that Mingyu could hear was a mess of sobs, the words escaping the incoherent blubbering were all about his mother. The other being stood, going over to comfort the other. He gently placed a hand on the other’s arm, but he jerked back like he had been electrocuted, his blond hair brushing against his forehead as he shook his head furiously. 

 _“Why can’t anyone hear me? What’s going on?”_  

Oh no. 

Mingyu should leave. He should turn on his heel and run, get away from this mess before anything could happen. But something in him felt that it wouldn’t be right, that Minghao would be disappointed in him. So he steeled himself and turned around when the vocal blond called out to him.  

 _“You! Tall person! Can you hear me?”_  

Mingyu walked towards the beings, his steps brisk. As soon as he felt they were in earshot, he murmured to them, “Follow me.” 

He then did a sharp right, heading towards the city park. He did not stop to see if they were following, he just kept walking. Once he arrived at said park a few minutes later, he sat underneath a large tree, the shade encasing his whole body. It was then that he noticed that both of the beings did follow him, the blond still blubbering while the brunette was looking around in confusion. Mingyu sighed, patting the ground next to him on either side, and the beings took their seats. 

“You two are dead.” 

The blonde rolled his eyes. _“Obviously. But why am I not completely dead?”_  

Mingyu was taken aback, and did not even attempt to conceal it from his face. He had not before encountered a being that knew of its fate so soon after the time of death. He continued to explain to them why they had become invisible, why the Underworld was so backed up, and when the brunette asked, speaking for the first time since the whole encounter began, why Mingyu could see them and interact with them and no one else could.  

The brunette, who Mingyu had learned was named Hansol, seemed to be in awe of the abilities he had, but the smile slowly slipped from his face when Mingyu told him of everything he had experienced at the hands of this ability. The mouthy blond, Seungkwan, seemed mildly sympathetic. Mingyu was sure strangers passed him by wondering why the same boy was sitting on the ground for at least two hours, but no one approached him.  

When the sun was setting, Mingyu stood, brushing off his jeans. “I should probably get going. Myungho might be getting worried.” 

Seungkwan wiggled his eyebrows. “ _Who’s Myungho?”_  

Mingyu rolled his eyes. “A friend. Another being.” 

 _“Living in your house?”_ Hansol questioned. When Mingyu nodded, he joined in on the eyebrow wiggling. _“Why don’t Seungkwan and I get an invitation?”_  

 _“Yeah,”_ Seungkwan cooed, _“Is this Myungho special? Want to keep him to yourself?”_  

Mingyu flushed red at that, and turned his back on the mocking beings. That only made them louder, and he could hear their voices following him as he walked away. With an idea popping into his mind, Mingu turns on his heel, stifling a laugh when he beings have to back up quickly in order to avoid slamming into his chest. 

“Why are you both laughing at me about Myungho when Hansol has been giving Seungkwan heart eyes all day long?” 

Hansol began stammering. _“He...He’s handsome!”_  

Mingyu smiled, beginning to walk away again. Over his shoulder, he called, “I’ll leave you to do your acquainting.” 

— 

Minghao had been sitting in the foyer with his head in his hands when Mingyu returned home. While it was true that Mingyu did not tell him when he was coming back. Minghao didn’t expect it to be long. Seven hours was a long time to be out and about, even in a place bursting with action and activity as Seoul was. Minghao, as much as he did not want to admit it, was worried. He was terrified. 

What if something happened to his Mingyu? 

The thought made him stop. When did he begin thinking of Mingyu as _his?_  

His heart plummeted to his stomach at hearing the words in that order, and it leapt into his throat when he heard the door unlock. Mingyu came in with his hair mussed by the wind and his jeans a little dirty, but he still looked as beautiful as ever. He hadn’t even opened his mouth and he was making it hard for Minghao to be mad at him for leaving him alone for so long. 

When Mingyu’s eyes drifted to the floor to take his shoes off, he noticed Minghao sitting there with his arms crossed. His face contorted in confusion. “Myungho, what are you—” 

Minghao stood up in a burst of anger. _“You idiot!”_  

“Huh?” 

 _“How_ dare _you leave me alone for seven hours! I was worried sick! Seoul is a big place, Mingyu, something could have happened and I wouldn’t have known or been able to help and I_ —” 

Mingyu was laughing. He was laughing at Minghao. So hard that he was struggling to stand upright, his hands finding purchase on his knees to hold himself up. Minghao eyes widened in disbelief and slight annoyance. _“Are you laughing at me?”_  

“You’re cute when you’re worried, Myungho-ssi. Worry about me more often.” Then Mingyu brushed past him to go into the kitchen. Minghao followed dubiously, now clearly flustered by his behavior, watching as Mingyu got out ramyeon from the cabinet.  

“Should I tell you about my day, or are you going to ask questions?” 

Minghao took a seat on a bar stool. _“What took you so damn long?”_  

“Questions it is then,” Mingyu laughed, turning the stove top on. “I met some ghosts. We talked all day. That’s it.” 

 _“More ghosts?”_ Minghao asks, his voice high with slight jealousy. In order to sound less serious, he added jokingly, _“Trying to get rid of me already?”_  

Mingyu snickered. “Never. But they got into a car accident and died while outside so I figured I’d help them.” 

Minghao repressed an unattractive snort. _“How noble of you, to go around helping us poor little ghosts.”_  

Mingyu turned around and pinned Minghao with a look that was equal parts annoyed and hurt. “You know that’s not what I do it for.” 

Minghao sighed. _“I know. You’re a good person with a good heart and good morals.”_  

Mingyu, ever the one to be a sucker for praise, beamed. “Thank you.” 

 _“Mingyu,”_ Minghao started, voice considerably softer. _“What was the weather like?”_  

Mingyu began pouring the boiling water in his cup. “It was nice today. Warm, not too humid, small breeze.” He placed his chopsticks on top of his cup, turning back to Minghao, his eyes now as soft as the younger’s voice was. “It was a beautiful day to go outside. Thank you for ordering me to.” 

Minghao squawked in mock indignation. _“It was not an_ order, _it was a suggestion!”_  

Mingyu grinned, saying nothing, letting the slurping of his noodles serve as a response. 

—

_ "Mingyu, no." _

The man in question whined. "Myungho, please."

Minghao shook his head feverishly.  _ "This will not be discussed, Mingyu. You're going to fill my head with fantastical thoughts and then you will inevitably let me down when it doesn't work. I know how this kind of thing goes." _

Mingyu wasn't listening. He retrieved and opened his Korean philosophy textbook, to the page that was exactly about ghost resurrection. The corner of the page had been folded, a bookmark, Minghao realized.

_ "You've been thinking about this before," _ Minghao stated incredulously. He made a point not to phrase it was a question, because he knew he was not wrong. This big idiot had been thinking about resurrecting him.  _ His _ big idiot had been thinking about resurrecting him. For some odd reason, the thought made his heart flutter. 

"Are you going to read this with me or not?" Mingyu asked, turning around to look at him, charming smile resting on his face. Minghao went and laid down next to Mingyu on his bed, and hid his racing heart behind a snarky comment. 

_ "I guess I will, since you always flash that pretty smile at me to get me to bend to your will." _

Mingyu's gentle grin stretched into a multi kilowatt beam. "Myungho, you think I'm pretty?"

Minghao was sure that if he was alive, he would have been blushing madly. But he's not alive, so it is easy to play the comment off and be cool about it.  _ "Well, yeah. You'd probably get laid if you actually went outside." _

Mingyu made a scoffing sound with his lips. "Why would I want to go outside when the only person I want to get laid by is already here?"

He seemed to not know what he was saying, because as soon as the words were out of his mouth, Mingyu looked embarrassed. He turned bright red, and did his absolute best to avoid Minghao's gaze, playing with the pages of his textbook. He felt like he was going to die out of sheer embarrassment.

Minghao, on the other hand, was smiling widely. He had an inkling that his attraction to Mingyu was not one-sided, and now it had been confirmed. He understood that Mingyu was struggling a bit, with his emotions and lack of filter, so he tried to wipe the smile from his face and cleared his throat.

_ "So, about this resurrection." _

Mingyu also cleared his throat, but his face was still aflame. "Right. The resurrection."

He traced his finger along the left page, before finding the part he had reread several times. 

"’Korean legend has it that if a being is not yet dead, but no longer alive, it is possible for them to be resurrected. But there are a few conditions.’"

_ "Conditions?" _ Minghao questioned, annoyed.

Mingyu nodded and continued to read. "Number one, the person most important to the being must have forgotten about them," Mingyu looked up from his book to glance at Minghao, "Who was most important to you?" 

Minghao's answer was immediate.  _ "My boyfriend, Junhui." _

Mingyu looked conflicted. "Junhui? As in Wen Junhui?"

Minghao nodded.  _ "Yeah! How do you know him?" _

Mingyu began to draw comforting patterns on Minghao's hand gently. Minghao knew that wasn't good.

_ "How do you know him, Mingyu?" _

Mingyu flinched at his tone. "That's the name of my best friend's boyfriend."

A thick silence fell over the two. It was so horrifyingly awkward, that Mingyu nudged Minghao with his shoulder, trying to lighten the mood. "Hey, they've only been dating for six months."

Minghao groaned and buried his head in his arms, willing himself not to cry in front of his companion. The elder drew his eyebrows together in confusion. He observed his dropped head and loud noise of irritation (or possibly heartbreak), and then something clicked in his head.

"Minghao," Mingyu began, his voice soft, "You never told me when you died."

Minghao spoke from the position he was in, so his voice came out muffled.  _ "When I found you, I'd been dead for a month."  _

Mingyu tilted his head in thought. "You've been with me for four months though. Those numbers don't work unless..."

It was then that Minghao raised his head, raising an eyebrow at Mingyu. The elder looked back at him, looking like a lost puppy. Minghao would have to spell it out for him.

The words felt heavy on his tongue.  _ "Jun was dating your friend while he was dating me. For a month before I died." _

Mingyu looked to the younger, his gaze filled with pity. "Oh, Minghao, I'm sorr—"

Minghao cut him off.  _ "He's probably happy I died. He can run off and play with his remaining boyfriend without having to think about me, _ " he mumbled bitterly.

Mingyu's features contorted into anger. Mingyu was  _ angry _ .

"Stop talking about yourself like that, Myungho. I won't have it."

The eye contact that he held with Minghao was so deep and intense that he could scarcely bring himself to look away. He just then realized how pretty Mingyu's eyes were. But when he did manage to rip his eyes away, he realized that it was a bit difficult. Minghao turned to lay on his back.

_ "Stop using your magic on me," _ he huffed. 

Mingyu suddenly broke into his signature dumb grin. "It was a simple glamour. Faces you to pay attention long enough for me to get my point across."

Minghao resented that Mingyu could do a small amount of magic. He was always on edge, worried about what kind of spells he could place on the younger and what he could make him do. He had learned from his sanshin uncles, his "relatives." 

Minghao was still set on Mingyu being Sobyeol, but the elder would always become irritated when he brought it up. He liked Mingyu's good moods, so he kept his mouth shut and never mentioned it.

Out loud, Minghao only said,  _ "What are the other conditions?" _

Mingyu seemed to have forgotten why they were sprawled out on his bed in the first place. "Oh, those."

He ran his finger along the page, finding where he left off. "Number two, the being must relocate to a new city where no trace of them lingers." 

Minghao interrupted.  _ "Where would I even go?" _

"I don't know," came Mingyu's honest answer.

_ "Are there any more conditions?" _

Mingyu bit his lip. "Yeah....there's one more."

Minghao rolled his eyes.  _ "What is it and why do you look so skeptical about telling me?" _

Mingyu turned his attention back to the book. "Number three, the being will have their memories wiped clean of the person or persons that resurrected them."

_ "No." _

"Myungho."

_ "No, Mingyu. I won't."  _

And with that, Minghao left the room.

 —

Mingyu completely forgot about his uncles visiting until they knocked on his door.  

Literally. He was in the kitchen, preparing to bake his hotteoks, and there was a knock on the door. Then everything clicked together and he slapped a hand on his forehead in the most dramatic fashion. He nearly slipped trying to get to the door quickly, not wanting to keep his uncles waiting.  

He grinned widely when he opened the door. “Uncles, come in,” he shouted.  

He hugged them all, Jihoon last, resting his chin on the elder’s head. It earned him an elbow in the chest. 

Jisoo sniffed. “It smells lovely in here.” 

Mingyu took off his apron. “I”m baking hotteoks.” 

Seokmin peered at him from over his glasses. “What’s the occasion?” 

Mingyu shrugged. “Myungho’s never heard of them. I wanted to show him.” 

That piqued Soonyoung’s interest. “Who’s Myungho?” 

Then all of his uncles were sitting up, looking at him expectantly. Living with Myungho had become so normal that he hadn’t even noticed his little slip. 

“Mingyu, you’re blushing,” Jihoon says matter-of-factly. 

Seokmin slapped his arm. “Mingyu, do you have a _boyfriend?”_  

Mingyu groaned loudly. “No! He’s just a friend.” 

Jisoo, ever gentle, laid a hand on Mingyu’s thigh. Despite the soft touch, the devious smile on his face was the exact opposite. “Have you had sex yet?”

“Hyung, he’s not alive.” 

Jihoon’s eyebrows wavered, and he pulled a lip between his teeth. “Is he some kind of spirit in disguise?” 

Mingyu rolled his eyes, standing to walk to the kitchen. “ _No,_ he’s a normal ghost that just hasn’t been able to pass into death because the underworld is a little backed up at the moment.” 

“ _Mingyu! I’m back,”_ called a voice outside the door. Not one of his uncles reacted. Mingyu rushed to the door, fixing his hair before he opened it. Soonyoung suppressed a snicker. 

“Welcome home,” Mingyu greeted him, which makes Minghao smile his dazzling smile. Before they go into the living room, Mingyu murmurs, “Uh. We have company.” 

Minghao raises an eyebrow, but walks down the hallway anyway. Minghao can see Mingyu’s uncles but none of them can see or hear him, seeing as he cleared his throat and none of them bothered a spare him a glance. Either they couldn’t see him or they were just really, really rude. 

Mingyu closed the door and followed Minghao down the hall to find his uncles engaging in quiet conversation with each other. He quietly sidled up to Minghao then spoke a command word. “Boda.” To see. 

Seokmin turns at the sound of Mingyu’s voice, and damn near jumps out of his skin when he notices the other figure standing there. Minghao doesn’t even try to stop his laughter, and it falls forth freely, making Jisoo smile. 

Mingyu laughs as well, putting a hand on Minghao shoulder in a way that he hoped looked natural. (Judging by how intensely Jihoon stared at his hand, it didn’t). “Myungho, these are my sanshin uncles, Jisoo, Jihoon, Soonyoung and Seokmin hyungs, meet Myungho, my favorite person in the world currently.” 

Minghao fondly rolled his eyes, looking up at Mingyu with a grin so breathtaking, so _real,_ that Mingyu almost forgets to breathe. “ _Do I really count as a person if I’m dead?”_  

Soonyoung cleared his throat. “Where’s that Wonwoo guy? Why isn’t he your favorite? He’s so handsome.” 

Mingyu’s mouth pinched into a thin line. “Sounds to me like he’s your favorite, hyung.” 

Soonyoung remained silent.  

“Anyway, he comes on Fridays to take me outside.” Mingyu continued. 

“ _You literally sound like a dog,”_ Minghao murmured.  

Jihoon unlocked and locked his phone. “It is Friday,” he said, getting cut off by the doorbell, “Idiot. 

Mingyu jumped, surprised. He had been thinking so much about Minghao that he had completely forgotten what day it is. He trudged to the door, swinging it open with his most bored of expressions on his face. While Mingyu was expecting Wonwoo, he was not prepared to see _Wen Junhui_ standing next to him. 

“Mingyu-yah,” Wonwoo greeted with a hug. “Are you ready to go on our walk?” 

Mingyu’s eyes slid over Jun. They had obviously met before, and Mingyu quite liked him actually. But after learning that Jun cheated on one of his dearest friends with another one of dearest friends made Mingyu feel a little sick. And more than sick, he was annoyed. And more than annoyed, he was angry. 

“What is _he_ doing here?” he spat. Both Jun and Wonwoo looked taken aback. 

“He didn’t have any plans, and I said he could come. Is that okay?” Wonwoo asked. He was talking very slowly, like Mingyu was a wild animal that he was afraid of angering. Mingyu couldn’t blame him. He was moody, sure, but never angry. Not like this. 

The offended look on Jun’s face snapped Mingyu out of his stupor. He stepped back, opening the door wider. “Come in. I have guests.” 

Wonwoo’s eyes lit up. “Is Soonyoung here?” 

When Mingyu nodded, Wonwoo let go of Jun’s hand and sprinted down the hall, shouting, “Soonyoung-ah!” 

Mingyu chuckled. That exclamation probably interrupted Soonyoung’s conversation with Minghao and— 

Minghao.  

He was visible. 

And Jun just showed up. 

In a panic, Mingyu shouted, “Gamchuda!” down the hallway. To hide. 

Jun looked at him strangely, but walked down the hallway anyway. Mingyu followed, hoping that the glamour worked. Gods, he hoped it worked. 

 _“Mingyu?”_  

Minghao’s voice was small, Mingyu turned his head towards his own name, and he could see Minghao’s form, faded and shaking. His eyes were trained on Jun, who had gone and taken a seat on Wonwoo’s lap, despite three empty seats in the room. 

 _“Get me out of here.”_  

“It’s a little stuffy in here from the oven, I’m gonna go outside,” Mingyu announced. He opened the door to his balcony, and Minghao nearly tripped over his own feet trying to get outside. Mingyu briefly debates following him, but Minghao’s voice stops him. 

 _“Don’t you dare come out here.”_  

Mingyu doesn’t. He stays inside, and glares at Jun the rest of the night. 

—

The second time Mingyu tried to convince Minghao to get resurrected, he tried to use a glamour.

He cooked a nice dinner, a Chinese dish called char siu. Minghao often said he craved it because it reminded him of home. Though Minghao couldn't physically taste the food, the thought was there.

When Minghao entered the kitchen looking thoroughly impressed, Mingyu whispered the command word.

"Deullida," he whispered. To listen.

"Myungho-ya," he called, summoning him over to the counter. Minghao approached cautiously, a small inkling of suspicion forming within him. 

"Accompany me while I eat?"

Minghao wordlessly drifted to the table, Mingyu following him closely. He sat on Minghao's right side. They fell into idle chatter about what Minghao encountered during the day.

_ "There was this ghost I met. His name is Chan. He was a dancer, like me, but he was so young, Mingyu. No older than eighteen. _

“Is that why you were gone so long?” Mingyu asked, before putting a piece of pork in his mouth. 

Minghao nodded.  _ “He told me about his life. He’s from Iksan.” _

Mingyu’s ears perked up at that. “That’s one of the cities from the _dokkaebi_ attacks.” 

_ “Yeah, I know,”  _ Minghao said, then his eyebrows furrow and his bottom lip juts out.  _ “Poor thing doesn’t even know his power.” _ _  
_

Mingyu’s chopsticks paused in the air. “How does he not know his power?” 

Minghao rolled his eyes.  _ “I could get to that part if you would stop interrupting me.” _

Mingyu mimed zipping his mouth, locking it, and throwing the key away. Minghao sighed.

_ “He wasn’t born when he massacres were happening. And since his mother was attacked, he was born a ghost.” _

Mingyu choked on his own tongue. “He was _born_ a ghost?” 

Minghao nodded, looking slightly more sad than he had before.  _ “Yeah, continued to grow until he was eighteen, and will say that way until he...dies.” _

Mingyu made a sound of horror. He would never stop mourning the death of youth. He had grown up around it, and it was still as tragic as it had been when he was a young boy.

But Mingyu had an agenda for this conversation.

"Speaking of ghosts, have you thought anymore about being resurrected?" 

Minghao rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to speak, but promptly snapped it closed. He narrowed his eyes at his companion. 

_ "Take this glamour off. Now." _

Mingyu shook his head. "Just listen to me, Myungho."

_ "I don't have any choice but to listen. So start talking." _

Mingyu brushed off the snappy tone from the younger. "Being alive is so amazing, Myungho. You get to experience food, parties, laughter, orgasms—"

Minghao's eyes widen just slightly, hurt taking over his features as he came to a conclusion in his head. It came out as a quiet murmur.  _ "You want to get rid of me." _

Mingyu heard him anyway. "What?"

_ "Jun didn't want me and you've grown tired of me. What is wrong with me?" _

 Mingyu looked at Minghao in bewilderment. “Myungho—” 

Minghao cut him off. _“No, Mingyu. Stop lying to me and just tell me how you actually feel about me being here.”_  

About ten thousand thoughts ran through Mingyu’s head; about how gentle Minghao is when he’s sleepy, about how Minghao sleeps when he though he doesn’t need to, about how fucking adorable and soft he looks when he is sleeping. 

Mingyu thought about Minghao’s dry humor, his tendency to ramble when passionate about something, his state of perpetual annoyance, his button nose, and he was so lost in this thoughts that he hadn’t realized that he hadn’t given Minghao an answer. 

“You’re not...here enough.” 

That’s the answer that Mingyu comes up with, and it wounds great to him. It clearly expresses his need to have Minghao closer, to be more than just a friend that you long for, and to actually to be present. Ghost Minghao is lovely, but human Minghao would be even better to Mingyu. 

But his self-proclaimed brilliant answer was not all that brilliant, because Minghao’s features twisted in anger. “ _You know, Mingyu, if you wanted me to be_ here _more often, you could just stop opening doors for me whenever I ask.”_  

Then it hits Mingyu that in interpretation, something has gone horribly, horribly wrong. But before he could even begin to correct himself, or to correct Minghao, the ghost is on the balcony, and before Mingyu can call out to him, he’s jumped.

— 

“Why didn’t you tell me about him before?” Wonwoo asked, bringing Mingyu a cup of tea. 

After seeing Minghao jump off the balcony, Mingyu had called Wonwoo in a panic. He was blubbering and shaking and could barely articulate his words, and Mingyu _never_ does that. Wonwoo ran for fifteen minutes to his best friend’s apartment, only to find him collapsed on the balcony, shoulders shaking with sobs. 

“I was ashamed. I didn’t know how you would take it,” Mingyu murmured. Truthfully, Mingyu was less worried about Wonwoo’s perception of him, being in love with a ghost and all. He was, in fact, more worried about Wonwoo’s perception of Minghao. Wonwoo being a massacre survived baby himself, from the final one in Changwon, he didn’t know how he would take to a ghost living with his best friend. 

“You know I’m supportive, Mingyu. As long as you are safe, I don’t mind.”  

Mingyu hummed, then murmurs another apology, probably the tenth or eleventh one since Wonwoo arrived an hour since. Wonwoo waved him off for the tenth and eleventh time. They sit in silence for a few minutes, sipping on their tea, until— 

“Wonwoo, I love him.” 

Mingyu had no idea where it had come from, but the pieces of the puzzle clicked together and suddenly everything made _sense._ The way Minghao’s eyes widen when Mingyu pays him an unexpected compliment, the way he blushes, the way he laughs, the way he sucks his teeth at nearly everything Mingyu says, his midnight hair, his lips that are unfairly prone to pouting, his oversized sweaters, his _everything_.  

Mingyu was in love. 

_ Mingyu was in love. _

The words floated in the air for a few short moments. And in those few short moments, Mingyu felt like he couldn’t breathe. His chest seized up, his lungs refused to work, however you want to say it. But the realization ran through him like a freight train, rendering every atom in his body motionless. Every cell, null and void. Mingyu was so completely, utterly, ridiculously in love with Xu Minghao, and he hadn’t realized until the object of his affections had run away.

“Ah, Mingyu-yah,” Wonwoo started, shifting uncomfortably. “I don’t think I can be of any use here. I’ve never heard of this kind of situation. I didn’t even know his kind existed.” 

Mingyu shrugged. “It’s okay, hyung. I didn’t expect you to.” 

When Wonwoo deemed Mingyu stable enough to function on his own, several hours later, he stood up to leave. Mingyu latched onto his hand. 

“Mingyu, what are you doing?” 

Mingyu flashed big puppy eyes at the elder, trying to look as sad as possible. “Can you stay until he comes back?” 

Usually, Wonwoo would refuse and tell Mingyu that’s he’s a grown man and to piss off, but for some reason, given the situation, that reaction seemed cruel and inappropriate. Wonwoo sighed, and allowed himself to be dragged back into bed. He allowed Mingyu to hold him, and to sob on his chest, and he promised himself that he and this Seo Myungho would have a very lengthy conversation. 

— 

Wonwoo had anticipated one night. Maybe two. But not  _ five. _

Minghao returned five nights later, looking exactly the same as he had when he left, and Mingyu sobbed with grief. After he stopped sobbing, he scolded Minghao for leaving so suddenly and for so long. Minghao apologized profusely, claiming that he was merely overwhelmed and it wouldn’t happen again. To be honest, Wonwoo found it disgusting how easily Mingyu forgave him, but love does strange things to a person. Unthinkable things. 

Mingyu proposed to have a special dinner in Minghao’s honor, Wonwoo nearly gagged. He actually did gag when Mingyu sent him out to buy kongguksu noodles for the dinner. He went nevertheless, because Mingyu was so happy to have his precious Myungho back and he didn’t want to be the one to ruin the atmosphere. He went, unknowing of what would happen when he left.

— 

“Myungho, I want you to at least think about getting resurrected.” 

Minghao rolled his eyes. He was sitting on the counter opposite of Mingyu, watching him chop vegetables. It would be like any other ordinary night, save for the fact that Minghao had just returned from an impromptu vacation that ripped Mingyu’s heart from his chest. 

 _“I just got back and_ that’s _what you want to talk about? None of the ‘where’ve you been’ or ‘what happened_ —’” 

Mingyu slammed his knife down, turning to Minghao. “You think those very questions didn’t plague my mind for the five nights you were gone?” 

Minghao gulped, looking away. _“Mingyu—”_  

“No, Myungho. How do you think it feels to watch the love of your life jump out of a window? To leave you, and having no idea what you did to make them go?” 

Minghao’s throat went dry.  _ “The love of your life?” _

 Mingyu picked up his knife and went back to cutting the sweet peppers in front of him. A bitter laugh passed through his lips. It sounded like someone rubbed sandpaper against itself. “Yeah, I figured that out while you were gone too. The first person I ever fall in love with is a ghost who doesn’t give a shit about me.” 

Minghao’s eyebrows jumped into his hairline. _“Mingyu, I love you.”_  

Mingyu snorted unattractively. “Yeah, right.” 

Minghao drifted to Mingyu’s side.  _ “ I think I’m in love with you. I have been for a while now.” _

Mingyu slammed the knife down again, turning to face Minghao. “That’s bullshit, and you know it. If you loved me, you wouldn’t have left. You wouldn’t have made me panic like that,” he faced the vegetables again, his voice becoming softer, “If you were alive I could call you, and check on you. I don’t like feeling nervous like I was. It’s unsettling.” 

A crease formed between Minghao’s eyes. _“Why won’t you accept me? You blow me off when I say I love you, even though_ you _said it first, you blow me off when I say you’re Sobyeol_ —” 

Mingyu scraped the vegetables into the pot on the stove. “Gods, really? Again with this bullshit?” 

 _“It’s valid, Mingyu!”_  

Mingyu put the cutting board in the sink. “Why won’t you just get resurrected, Myungho?” 

— 

When Wonwoo returned with the noodles, Mingyu’s uncles were standing in front of his door. They looked like they had not moved for a while. 

“Uh, hey guys?” Wonwoo greeted. No one jumped, no one even looked at him. He tried again. “Hey, guys?” 

Jisoo’s voice was quiet. “They’re shouting.” 

Wonwoo shoved past all of them, digging into his jeans pocket for his copy of Mingyu’s key. He passed the paper bag of groceries into Seokmin’s hands, then pushed the door open. 

“ _I don’t want to lose you, Mingyu! Do you even remember the conditions of being resurrected? I lose all memory of you. Why the hell would I want to do that? Why do you have to be so fucking stubborn? You won’t listen to reason!”_  

Neither Mingyu nor Minghao were expecting Wonwoo to come bounding into the kitchen. Their positioning was not ideal; Minghao was standing too close to Mingyu, and it looked every bit that Minghao was screaming at him, which he was. Wonwoo could not even see Minghao, but he could certainly feel to concoction of anger and frustration brewing in the air. 

Wonwoo nearly growled, but Mingyu paid him no mind. “Where are the noodles, hyung?”

Mingyu isn’t the only person who can ignore distress. Wonwoo closed his eyes and swallowed, an attempt to quell his temper. He spoke with his eyes still closed, but it was clear his words were aimed at Minghao. “How _dare_ you talk to him like that.” 

Minghao backed away from Mingyu only to approach Wonwoo. “It’s not my fault he won’t fucking listen to me.” 

“Don’t curse at me, punk.” 

Mingyu was amazed at how Wonwoo was replying at everything Minghao was saying without being able to see or hear him. But then he realized his forehead was tingling. Wonwoo’s mind-reading power was at work; he was gauging Minghao’s attitude from the inside of Mingyu’s head, and Mingyu hadn’t even known that was even possible. 

A thirty second screaming match ensued between two people that Mingyu cared for dearly. Minghao was yelling about how Mingyu never listened to him, and Wonwoo counteracted it with how Minghao needed to treat Mingyu with more respect. It was becoming a little overwhelming for all parties involved. Before Mingyu’s uncles, who neither Minghao nor Mingyu had noticed, could intervene, Mingyu was shouting as well, his voice blanketing both of theirs.  

“Chimmuksikida!” To silence. 

Wonwoo’s mouth snapped shut immediately, but Minghao remained speaking. Everyone heard his voice distinctly say, “ _I don’t need a_ mortal _telling me how to treat people I love.”_  

Mingyu blinked. Why did the glamour not work on Minghao?

Minghao himself just turned to Mingyu, his eyes pleading and his hands clasped together.  _ "Do you see it now? It all makes sense, Mingyu. Sobyeol is from Anyang. So are you. Anyang is surrounded by mountains on all four sides. You have four sanshin, four mountain gods for uncles. Sobyeol is the supreme leader of the mortal world. You just spoke a command word, and it only worked on the only mortal in the room. Listen to me, Mingyu. You are Sobyeol." _

Mingyu felt dizzy. Like his whole world was collapsing. It really did make a horrifying amount of sense, but this was a kind of responsibility he didn't want. Wordlessly, he looked over to his uncles. Jisoo cast his head downward and Jihoon followed, Soonyoung and Seokmin also joining in on the silent apology. That's when he knew, and all of the power drained out of him. The glamour on Wonwoo disappeared, and Mingyu nearly fell over with grief. He internally wept for his lost childhood, his misplaced parents, the sweet people of his city. It seemed too much for one human to bear.

But Mingyu wasn’t human. He was a godling. 

He couldn’t stand to bear this alone. If Wonwoo was going to hear all of this, hear his whole past, he might as well be able to see the root of his problems. He still had not seen Minghao, but Mingyu planned to change that.  “ Bo-ida ,” he spoke. To show.

Jihoon sat on the couch, patting the spot next to him. Mingyu was silent, his anger now gone, and sat near the smaller man. 

"So," Jihoon started, "You are Sobyeol."

Minghao pumped his fist is a celebratory fashion.  _ "I knew it! _ "

Wonwoo, who was sitting at Mingyu's feet like a guard dog, slowly turned his head in the direction of the voice. He seemed startled to be able to see Minghao for the first time, but that didn’t stop him from fixing the Chinese ghost with a glare that matched his tone of voice. "If you're going to be an asshole, get out."

Minghao got quiet.

“Your specialty is in Korean mythology. I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out sooner,” Soonyoung commented. Wonwoo also fixed him with a hard stare. 

“Shut up, Soonyoung. Let Jihoon tell him the story,” Jisoo barked. Mingyu had never seen his uncle so snappy. 

Jihoon cleared his throat before beginning. “Anyang was once the capital of Korea. Korean philosophers from the Baekje Dynasty believed that mountains were sacred, and because Anyang was surrounded by mountains, it was considered to be a city of royals.” 

“So were you guys supreme?” Wonwoo asked. He was clutching Mingyu’s hand like a lifeline. 

Seokmin chuckled. “Something like that. Right under Cheonjiwang and Baji.” 

“Who are they?” 

“I’m getting there,” Jihoon snapped. “Cheonjiwang and Queen Baji. The supreme king and queen of the world.” 

“My parents,” Mingyu murmured. 

“Your parents,” Jihoon repeated softly. “They lived in Anyang. Once Queen Baji became pregnant with you and your brother, Daebyeol, Cheonjiwang fled.” 

“Why?” Mingyu’s voice was small. 

Jihoon bowed his head, playing with his hands instead of looking at Mingyu. “Seungcheol, he was a coward. He had enough responsibility with ruling the earth. He didn’t want the responsibility of children. So he fled, and only told me where he went. He told me to watch over you, to protect you and keep you safe. So I started to teach you magic. Defense magic. Things that I knew would be needed to save your life.” 

“Like when I ran into that fox with nine tails. The one that caused the powerful illusions. You taught me _chiuda_ and _mukkda_. To clear and to bind.” Mingyu said, his voice still a bit far away.  

“Yes, the _kumiho._ Magic is and was all I knew how to do, so I figured I would do my best to keep my promise to your father.” 

Mingyu inhaled deeply, trying to absorb all of this information. Jihoon was courteous enough to pause, and allow him to. The silence that hung in the air was thick and uncomfortable, and no one dared to move. Mingyu still clutched Wonwoo’s hand, his uncles did not draw a breath. Minghao stood by himself, leaning against the wall, watching the story unfold.  

He was secretly very proud of himself for knowing Mingyu’s identity all along, but another part of him, a bigger part of him was ashamed to be happy at all in the present moment. Mingyu looked visibly shaken, and it made Minghao uneasy. He had always known, always seen Mingyu as an anchor. He was always the tan, long limbed, and utterly beautiful model of unwavering confidence, and seeing him crumpled and hunched over on his couch made Minghao’s stomach churn. 

Then there was Wonwoo.  

Mingyu had said several times that they were just friends, nothing more, but Minghao could not help how the ball of jealousy in his chest was expanding at just the sight of them near each other. He didn’t like it; their closeness, or how much their closeness affected him. 

The front of Minghao’s head began to tingle, and it felt almost like a migraine. He momentarily felt ashamed that he thought hard enough to bring that on, but then he noticed Wonwoo staring at him. Wonwoo was using his ability on Minghao, soaking up every bit of knowledge he just heard from the inside of Minghao’s mind. He chuckled and shook his head. Before Minghao could mentally swear at him in every language he knew, he heard Wonwoo’s voice in his head, sharp and assertive. 

 **We will talk later.**  

(They wouldn’t).

Minghao nodded feverishly, but made a point to avoid his gaze. 

Jihoon used his thumb to rub small circles on Mingyu’s hand. “Can I continue?” 

Mingyu invited Wonwoo up onto the couch. Though he was taller, he managed to curl up to the elder, making himself comfortable. Wonwoo returned the embrace as eagerly as he received it. Minghao clenched his jaw in annoyance, and this feeling was further implemented when he heard Wonwoo’s laughter in his own head. 

“Now you can continue,” Mingyu said, his voice slightly muffled by Wonwoo’s flannel. 

“Okay,” Jihoon sighed, “Where was I?” 

“His father left,” Wonwoo supplied helpfully. 

Jihoon clapped his hands. “Ah! That was it. Cheonjiwang was the city’s life force. Once he left, it became unstable. Anayng managed to not collapse because Queen Baji was there. She was still a royal, but she was considerably weakened by her pregnancy and grief at her husband’s departure.” 

“We all promised to help her care for you once you and your brother were born,” Jisoo cut in. 

Jihoon nodded. “Yes, we were all hands on deck, ready to be your caretakers. But once your mother gave birth to you, she fled as well.” 

Mingyu offered up a dry laugh, absent of any trace of humor. “Damn, were we really that bad?” 

Soonyoung shook his head. “No, it wasn’t that. Jeonghan went in search of Seungcheol. But what she didn’t realize was that leaving the city would not only completely break the protective barrier around Anyang, but would leave us in charge as well.” 

“The rupturing of his barrier, that’s how the _dokkaebi_ got in, isn’t it?” Mingyu asked. He was no longer crying, and now seemed to be enthralled in the story. Minghao would have been lying if he said it wasn’t the slightest bit cute.  

“Yes, about six or seven hundred of those evil spirits, the _dokkaebi,_ invaded the city. Their presence was so plentiful, so reckless and cruel, that people began to die by the thousands. No mortal city, royal or not, could withstand that much evil. They ran through the city, murdering citizens and burning their homes. It was not a pretty sight.” 

“How am I still alive, then? How were they defeated?” Mingyu asked. 

“You and your brother lived up in the mountains with us,” Seokmin answered. “Jihoon stayed with you while we went down to confront the issue. 

Mingyu had become a fountain of questions. “Were the _dokkaebi_ just lying in wait? Why attack Anyang?”  

Jihoon patted his head. “No one knows. Legend has it that they came all the way from  _ China  _ to attack.”

The pointed glare and emphasis on the word was not lost on Minghao.  

It was Wonwoo who spoke up this time. “If Mingyu is Sobyeol, where is Daebyeol?” 

“He’s in the Underworld, controlling the flow of beings. He was tired of seeing people die, and wanted to make the transition into death a bit more peaceful. Where else would he be?” Jisoo asked. 

“Why haven’t I never met him?” Mingyu asked. 

“Seungcheol asked me to wipe any memories you have of him,” Jisoo answered. 

Mingyu’s voice rose in volume. “And you did?” 

 _“Wait, wait, wait,”_ Minghao interrupted, speaking for the first time. _“Who are Seungcheol and Jeonghan?”_  

“The ghost asks an excellent question,” Wonwoo remarked. Minghao did his best not to grimace. 

“Seungcheol and Jeonghan are Cheonjiwang and Baji’s mortal names,” Jihoon answered. Both Mingyu and Minghao asked questions at the same time, causing Wonwoo to yell at Minghao to shut him up, which caused poor Jihoon to rub at him temples. 

Seokmin intervened. “What did you say, Mingyu?” 

“I asked if they existed as mortals,” Mingyu restated. “But it was more of a ‘repeat in shock’ kind of thing rather than a ‘I didn’t hear you’ kind of thing.” 

 _“I asked if they were still in their mortal forms.”_  

“Yeah, they live in Anyang with us!” Soonyoung exclaimed. Jisoo glared at him, and Mingyu’s jaw dropped open. 

“So that’s why you always come here and never let me visit you guys!” 

Seokmin rolled his eyes, picking at his fingernails. “Good job, Soonyoung. Now he knows.” 

Soonyoung stood up and distanced himself from the couch. “Can we stop acting like Mingyu is a baby? He’s a grown man now.” 

Jihoon’s voice was sharp with warning. “Soonyoung—” 

Soonyoung ignored him, turning to face Mingyu. “Cheonjiwang and Baji, Seungcheol and Jeonghan, whatever you want to call them, they’re alive. They’re mortal, they live in the mountains with us, they know you exist and what you look like.” 

“Why haven’t they wanted to meet me?” Mingyu asked, sounding small and broken like a child and Minghao wants so desperately to hug him tightly. Wonwoo does it for him.

Jisoo cut in. “They’re a bit ashamed of their behavior prior to your birth.” 

Minghao scoffed. _“Shouldn’t they want to apologize?”_  

Jihoon raised an eyebrow in annoyance. “I don’t think a lowly ghost should be making comments about our lords of the universe.” 

Minghao heaved a large sigh, abandoning his place against the wall. _“Yeah, we all get it. I’m a poor Chinese exchange student ghost that died in an unknown way. But I’d appreciate it if you didn’t act like I’m the problem here.”_  

Mingyu’s eyes flitted between he and Jihoon. “Myungho, calm down.”

_“I...I can’t! I can’t sit here and listen to your uncle act like an ass to me and act like I’m the reason for all of your misfortunes,”_ he says, then turns to address the entire group, _“especially when I have been making him happy for the past six months and the four of you have been lying to him for the past ten or so years.”_  

Everyone was silent, but Minghao could not stop. 

“ _And Cheonjiwang and Baji aren’t even the lords of the universe anymore,”_ Minghao gestured in Mingyu’s general direction, not daring to look him in the eye, “He _is a lord of the universe. Daebyeol is a lord of the universe. Their lordship expired when the children were born.”_  

“How does he know that?” Seokmin murmured.  

“He has the same major as me, and has lived with me for six months. He’s picked up on some things.” 

Minghao thought his voice sounded strange considering the situation, and looked at him for the first time in nearly ten minutes. And Mingyu was _smiling._  

Not just any regular old smile. The smile that came with exposed canines and crinkles by his eyes, and suddenly Minghao felt very proud of his defiant outburst if it made Mingyu look at him like that. 

Minghao wanted to cry. 

— 

Minghao went to bed early. He was exhausted from running away from Mingyu and arguing with Mingyu and being in love with Mingyu. The glamour had worn off and he was now invisible to the rest of Mingyu’s guests anyway, so it was a perfect time to escape.  

He was quite the heavy sleeper. He did not hear Mingyu enter to room, he did not hear Mingyu unravelling an old, cracked scroll, he did not hear Mingyu begin to whisper the resurrection spell around his sleeping form. 

“For the Lords who listen to this spell, heed this wish and grant it well. To all terms both parties have agreed, for thy pains no one shall bleed. For thou who hovers between life and death, for thou who labors for every breath, trek on through the Mortal door, assemble flesh and walk once more.” 

Mingyu picked up Minghao’s body, which was quickly beginning to return to it’s mortal form, and carried him outside. He was then given to his uncles, who were on their way back to Anayng, who all swore up and down to protect him as if he was Mingyu.  

Then Mingyu went back inside to Wonwoo, and he cried. 

Since Jihoon spoke those words that marked Mingyu as a godling, he had been experiencing incredible, overwhelming surges of power. He tried to be as discreet as possible when they hit him, but of course Wonwoo caught on. Wonwoo catches onto everything. 

Considering that Mingyu was one half of the most powerful duo alive at that moment, he should have been more scared. But all he could think about was this newfound power that he had, and what he could do with it. He knew Minghao wouldn’t get resurrected while conscious, and that human Mingyu wouldn’t be able to do it. 

Well Mingyu was no longer human, and Minghao was no longer awake, so Mingyu took the chance. 

He wanted Minghao to be alive so badly, he wanted him to breathe and love and live out the rest of his life so badly. He wanted Minghao to live the life that Mingyu never had, and that Minghao would have never had. He craved it so badly that he went behind Minghao’s back to accomplish it.  

Mingyu felt a little selfish. Forcing Minghao to live, because Mingyu wanted him to was a little low, even for him. But it was solely because Mingyu wanted him to experience life. No one deserves to die at twenty years old. Mingyu had accepted that he would never see Minghao again. He had no reason to go to Anyang; his uncles could continue to visit him in Seoul and his parents had no desire to meet him. He would be okay. He could go back to living alone, to going outside once a week, to smiling less.  

He could live without Minghao. 

Wonwoo stayed at Mingyu’s house one more night. 

— 

Seven months passed. Mingyu went seven months without seeing or hearing Minghao. He thought about him every day, but other than that, everything had gone back to normal.  

Well not completely back to normal. Wonwoo came to get Mingyu four times a week now. Due to their frequency of being outside, Mingyu and Wonwoo ran into Hansol and Seungkwan. It was never one or the other. They were always together, and Mingyu found their unspoken relationship quite adorable. 

Wonwoo had also broken up with Jun, once Mingyu told him that he was a cheater. Mingyu was happy about that. But what he was less happy about was that Wonwoo had taken to dating Soonyoung, his _uncle_ Soonyoung, which kind of made Wonwoo his uncle. They had strange dynamics, but they both seemed happy so he never questioned it. 

It was February again. The same month that Mingyu met Minghao in the previous year. He tried not to dwell on the fact much, especially since Wonwoo was dragging him to Anyang to Seokmin’s twenty first birthday.  

The train ride was short. Wonwoo chattered aimlessly about seeing Soonyoung again; the sudden population burst in Anyang turned him into a policeman of sorts, and he was often busy. Mingyu listened to him somewhat, but most of the time was spent trying to forget about Minghao. Which was how most of his time was spent.

Soonyoung himself was waiting at the station with a stupid sign emblazoned “ **JEON WONWOO** ” and in smaller, finer print at the bottom, “and Kim Mingyu.” 

Mingyu couldn’t even be annoyed.

Wonwoo sprinted straight into Soonyoung’s arms, nearly knocking him over. He dropped his things on the way there, and Mingyu. Slightly embarrassed by the stares they were receiving, picked them up silently and waited for his turn to hug his own uncle. 

They were walking to Soonyoung’s car when he heard it. 

“Kim Mingyu!” 

All three of them froze. Mingyu turned on his heel slowly, very slowly, and sucked in a sharp breath. 

There he was. Xu Minghao. Seo Myungho. Six feet away from Mingyu, radiating the glow of life, and looking as beautiful as Mingyu had ever seen him. He found it a bit difficult to breathe. 

“Why have you never paid me a visit? You know, after to resurrected me in my sleep and left me to your uncles?” 

Mingyu was to preoccupied in his own thoughts to hear the bitter edge to his voice. Oh, that voice. Mingyu was so used to hearing it as a quiet murmur, something in the back of his head. Even then, as it was loud and slightly angry, it was sweetened by his accent. 

Minghao was wearing white ripped jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt with some random logo on it. So minimal and quiet, but so was Minghao. His hair was no longer the midnight black color that it was when they met, but it was now a soft chestnut brown that fell over his forehead in waves. His eyes were sharp as usual, his mouth set in a thin line. He was so beautiful. Minghao was so beautiful. 

Minghao also seemed to be getting frustrated with Mingyu’s lack of answer. “Mingyu, I asked you a question.” 

This statement seemed to bring Mingyu out of his haze, and his eyebrows furrowed in suspicion. “How...How do you know who I am?” 

Minghao rolled his eyes. “I’m in love with you. We’ve been over this.” 

Mingyu’s heart jumped, but he dared not become hopeful. “But you’re _alive._ And the conditions said—” 

Minghao walked towards him, closing the space. He ever so carefully reached up, brushing a strand of Mingyu’s hair from his eyes. His fingers were warm. 

“Those are Korean conditions. I’m Chinese,” Minghao said, his voice soft, “And you’re an idiot.” 

Mingyu’s heart swelled. “So...you’re my Myungho?” 

Minghao nodded, reaching to entwine their fingers. Mingyu had never latched onto someone so quickly.

“So…” Mingyu repeated. “Where do we go from here?” 

Minghao grinned up at him. “I’m your Myungho, you’re my Mingyu. Let’s start from there.” 

Mingyu returned the smile whole-heartedly, canines and all. 

“That sounds good to me.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I've literally been working on this since march. it was supposed to be mingyu's birthday present but it's almost jun's birthday gngdkj
> 
> I did so much research for this fic. I don't think I've ever been more committed to a concept or a ship and I just wanted to capture their personalities somewhat realistically
> 
> Now that this is done I'm going to dedicate my whole summer to finishing my meanie and jicheol fics, and I started planning a junhao fic so maybe I'll start that too
> 
> I'm just a little proud of this so please go easy on me when leaving comments
> 
> thank u for reading this long ass story and this long ass note
> 
> 170609  
> -Z


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